Take Timna, for example. Her story, though brief, speaks volumes about the magnetic pull of righteousness.

We find her mentioned almost in passing in Genesis 36:12: "Timna was a concubine of Elifaz son of Esau, and she bore Amalek to Elifaz. These are the sons of Ada wife of Esau." Okay, so she’s connected to Esau. But what’s the big deal?

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai, as quoted in Bereshit Rabbah, asks a pointed question: Why does the Torah even bother to tell us that "Timna was a concubine of Elifaz son of Esau?" It seems like a detail, almost an aside. Yet, according to Rabbi Shimon, this seemingly insignificant verse highlights just how much even the most powerful kingdoms desired to be associated with the lineage of Abraham. Who was Lotan? The verse tells us that Lotan was a chieftain, a ruler. And Lotan’s sister was Timna (Genesis 36:22). This Timna, a woman of noble birth, desired to cleave to the household of Abraham so strongly that she was willing to become a concubine – a woman in a subservient role – to Elifaz, Esau’s son.

The Midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 82) tells us that Timna essentially said, "Since I am not worthy to marry him as a wife, I will be his maidservant." Wow. She understood the specialness, the holiness, within Abraham's descendants.

Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. The text draws an a fortiori argument, a logical inference moving from the lesser to the greater. If even the wicked Esau, who only had one mitzva (good deed) to his credit – honoring his father, Isaac – could attract such interest from kingdoms and realms, how much more would they desire to be connected to the righteous Jacob, who fulfilled the entire Torah?

It's a powerful lesson in influence and legacy. Even a single act of kindness, like Esau honoring his father, can have far-reaching effects. But the true power, the true magnetism, lies in a life dedicated to righteousness, like Jacob's.

So, what does Timna's story teach us? It reminds us that people are drawn to goodness. They are drawn to those who embody values and principles. And it challenges us to consider: what are we drawing others to? Are we building a legacy that reflects the values of Abraham and Jacob? Are we living lives that make others want to cleave to the light within us?

It’s a question worth pondering, isn't it?